


how did it come to this

by ShanleenKinnJaskey



Series: remember my last [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, Historical Hetalia, I Made Myself Cry, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Sorry, Life Is Beautiful by Sixx A.M., M/M, Oh god the feels, Self-Harm, Songfic, Suicide Attempt, World War II, Yes I'm killing you guys, gerita - Freeform, sorry 'bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanleenKinnJaskey/pseuds/ShanleenKinnJaskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holy Rome dies, and Italy grieves, but he soon comes to find that his first love lives on in someone else- Germany. But if Germany hallucinates at the very memory of the girl he used to love, what is Italy to do but stand back and suffer, forever watching over the broken man he used to love?</p><p>Translated into Russian!</p>
            </blockquote>





	how did it come to this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGoliathBeetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoliathBeetle/gifts), [Zeplerfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/gifts), [myfivemeters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfivemeters/gifts).



> Here is the version I personally listened to while writing this fic:  
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYZMEq4KEsk
> 
> Oh, and as always this is un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Translated into Russian [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4031539) by whisper_arine1

_You can't quit until you try_

Dear Italia-

I'm coming back. There's no question about it, Italia, I'm coming back for you. I've loved you for hundreds of years, and one little war won't keep me away from you.

You'll wait for me, right?

 -Holy Rome

 

_You can't live until you die_

Dear Italia-

I'm dying. How can I be dying? I'm the Holy Roman Empire, love of the beautiful Italy. I can't be dying- I have so much to live for. My king, my people, my brother, and most especially you.

It hurts, mein liebling, it hurts so much. Ich liebe dich, my Italia...

-Holy Rome

 

_You can't learn to tell the truth_

_Until you learn to lie_

Dear Holy Rome,

You are leaving today. I wish you luck, though I wish you didn't have to go. I love you, amore mio. Come back soon- promise me that, at least. Promise me you'll come back.

I'll make a bouquet of flowers for when you get back. I'll be waiting for you at the front steps, Holy Rome. I love you.

-Italy

 

_You can't breathe until you choke_

_You gotta laugh when you're the joke_

_There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive  
_

Dear Holy Rome,

How could you? I waited so long for you to come back. Every night I fell asleep on the steps and Miss Hungary would carry me to bed. I wrote you a letter every day and replaced the flowers in the vase. Every time they started to get dry I pressed them and stuck them in one of your letters. I have stacks and stacks of them now.

What am I going to do with them now that you're dead and gone?

-Italy

 

_Just open your eyes_

_Just open your eyes_

_And see that life is beautiful._

 

Dear Girl In My Dreams,

I was just awoken by my new big brother a few days ago. My memories are splintered- I can't remember much. I remember your amber eyes, reflecting a warmth inside, and feel of your lips against mine.

I loved you, didn't I? It frustrates me that I can't remember anything else about you and your warm amber eyes. What color hair did you have? What were you like? I can't remember, and memories of you are already slipping away. 

You're just a mirage, a fragile dream of mine, and I'm forgetting you. I guess it's better that way- big brother East wants me to start a new life and wash the dirt of the old away. Goodbye, whoever you are- you're part of an old life, one that I need to forget.

-Germany

 

_Will you swear on your life,_

_That no one will cry at my funeral?_

Dear Germany,

So you're him, aren't you? My _Sacro Romano_ , my Holy Rome- he lives on inside of you, a splinter of his former self.

Prussia came by today with a new brother by his side, but before I could meet you he took me aside. He looked at me with those blood red eyes and told me that I had to stay away from you. He was worried about you, that you'd get hurt.

"Why?" I asked, "What could a weak country like me do against the awesome Prussia's younger brother?"

"Because," he answered, completely serious for once, "He contains a bit of Holy Rome in him. When I first found him he was hallucinating, dreaming of blood and war and death. He woke up every night covered in sweat, and sometimes he even scratched himself during these nightmares. The only respite, he said..." Then Prussia looked directly into my eyes, which were swiftly filling with tears, "Well, he said that the only thing that kept him sane was 'a little girl with brown eyes and a big, warm smile.'"

My hands flew to my mouth. 

"He has since stopped dreaming of war or of that little girl, but I'm afraid that if he remembers you it will start again. I'm so sorry to ask you this, but could you please stay away from him, at least for now? There's a part of Holy Rome's memories living inside of Germany, and I'm afraid if he remembers he will get hurt again. He's my brother, just like Holy Rome, and I can't let him get hurt. Not after...not after I failed last time."

I couldn't bear it. I couldn’t bear seeing your face again, knowing that you were alive yet I couldn't talk with you, so I turned and ran, burying my face in my hands. I love you, Holy Rome.

-Italy

 

_I know some things that you don't_

_I've done things that you won't_

Dear Germany, 

So many years have passed since my last entry. I've avoided you for years, not even knowing what you looked like. I had the feeling that if I saw a painting of your face I would grow too attached, comparing you to Holy Rome, so I didn't care to look at you.

I was an idiot.

I finally met you the other day, in a box of tomatoes no less. Funny where we meet the people who change our lives forever, eh, Germany?

But back to what I was saying, as soon as my gaze fell on you I knew who you were. Those blue, blue eyes and hair of gold- who else could you possibly be? Who else could hold that look of ancient blood, that posture of royalty and nobility?

So I am afraid I acted like a fool, Germany. I blubbered, whined, acted the simpleton. My brain could just think of nothing else to do. I was captured again (no surprise there) and sang you a song. I'm sorry- I couldn't resist.

It didn't matter in the end, did it? You let me go, and my bosses abandoned you to debt. I'm sorry, my love- trust me, I would help you if I could.

-Your Fool, Italy

 

_There's nothing like a trail of blood to find your way back home  
_

Dear Germany, 

Dammit! Why can't you just see? Why can't you realize what you are to me? It's been nearly a thousand years since I started to fall in love with you. Both of you- that spirited boy whose soul you contain a splinter of, and the strong man you have become. 

You contain the ghost of past nations in your eyes, the dreams of an ancient empire beneath your skin. I can see it better than you can for once. The most important thing of all- the fact of who you truly are- is the one thing you are oblivious to.

I feel sorry for you, my...friend.

-Italy

 

_I was waiting for my hearse_

_What came next was so much worse_

_It took a funeral to make me feel alive_

Dear Italy, 

I'm not stupid, you know- I can tell you're hiding something behind your smile. The few times I've ever seen your eyes open they've held deep sorrow, as if you have gone through a horrible tragedy.

As much as I'd hate to admit it to the rest of the world, your my friend, Italy, and I'd hate to see you get hurt. In fact, I think I actually fear that more than anything. To see you without a smile- that would break me in a way I can't even begin to imagine.

-Germany

 

_Just open your eyes_

_Just open your eyes_

_And see that life is beautiful._

Dear Germany, 

You see me as a pasta-loving fool, don't you? You don't understand how much it takes to keep it all in, to keep my depression from showing. That's why I smile all the time- I'm afraid that if I let myself cry, I'll never stop.

-Italy

 

_Will you swear on your life,_

Dear Italy,

I remember you.

It hit me as Berlin burned before my eyes, the pain biting at my side familiar somehow. I knew this feeling from somewhere, from some other life...

A flash of a face, an image I had thought long forgotten.

A declaration of love, floating across young lips. 

_"Ever since the 900s, I've always loved you."_

-Germany

_That no one will cry at my funeral?_

Dear Italy,

We've lost. I'm sorry for what I did to you and your people, what my boss twisted Prussia and I into doing for you.

I go to you, after the war. I am afraid of how you'll react, or if it is even possible to find retribution for the complete hell we've put you through especially if you know who I used to be. I don't know what to expect, what to hope for. I know that even the hope of you talking to me would be far-fetched, barely possible, but I hope despite the odds. I arrive at your house, and I knock at the door.

There is nothing. No "Go away!", no "PASTA!", no loud thumps as you clumsily bump into things on your way to the door. There is only silence, and I instantly know there is something wrong. You are never quiet- it's against your very nature. I test the doorknob, and the door swings in, unlocked. Yet another sign something is wrong.

I walk in, nerves on edge. I muffled crying from the bathroom, and I head for the door and open it. The sight in front of me floors me, and for a moment I stand at the door, held captive by the red splattered across the normally pristine white sink.

No, Italy. Please God, no.

Oh, Italy, why? Why would you ever do such a thing?

-Germany

 

_Alive..._

_Just open your eyes_

_Just open your eyes_

Dear Germany,

No. You aren't supposed to see. You aren't supposed to witness my pain, what I do to make everything go away. The quick sting of the blade, and everything ebbs away, flowing off to somewhere else. I am brought up for long enough to interact with others, to deal with international and domestic issues. It's overwhelming, trying to deal with everything. It feels like more than it ever did before, as if there is someone or something missing that used to help deal with the pain.

I see your eyes, wide and scared. Worry plastered across porcelain skin, lifetimes of pain folded into the creases on your face. "Italien," you say, "Vhat..." You swallow, as if trying to regain your composure, "...Vhat is zhis?"

"Nothing," I say, though clearly it's something. It's everything, years of pain and grief screaming through in a way I could never form into words. But what cuts deeper than this high could lift me is the fact that you have found out, and you still don't even realize the main reason why I started, the main reason I cannot bear to live normally anymore.

There it is again, that low threatening to pull me into Hell. I need it, the blade- it will help the pain fall away. I reach forward for it, the urge to cut heavy in my veins. Before I can reach it, though, a hand settles over my thin wrist. I look up into your face as you brings in a towel with the other hand and silently wrap it around my forearm, mopping up the blood. Your eyes are hard now, and I can't see what you're thinking. I can only stand there and watch as you quietly clean me up, not speaking a word. I don't speak either, staring at you instead. Soon- or an infinity later, I can't really tell- you finish. You step back, and I now have a bandage around my wrist, blood wiped away from my arm and the counter.

"Why do you care, Germany?" I ask, tears springing unbidden to my eyes. Why do you care? Why do you bother to help? It is not that I think you hate me, but rather that there is _nothing special_ between us, at least that you know of. There is no reason for you to try and rescue me from myself.

"Vhy do you zhink, Italien?" you says quietly. Then you leans in close, and I can feel your breath on my face. "I've loved you since the 900s.  _Ich liebe dich, mein liebling."_

"Mio dio," I whisper, and on instinct I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him. Our lips meet, and it is just like I imagined.

No more fear, no more pain. The blade means nothing now.

There is only you, and only what you mean.

Hope.

Love.

Everything I've ever wanted.

-Germany

 

_And see that life is beautiful._

Mein Liebling/Amore Mio,

This is love. This is forever.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, another 'remember my last' fic.
> 
> Also, yay, cliffhanger!  
> JK, just read "where you'll find me" for the ending. Well, ish.
> 
> Same old routine- comment and leave kudos if you like it, leave constructive criticism if you don't.


End file.
